Monday Nights at the Bluebird
by Emma R2
Summary: A Rayna/Deacon prequel. My fevered imaginings of how they met, based on clues from songs and storylines. (probably waaaaay off base) Property of the brilliant Callie Khouri, ABC and Mrs. Chip Esten (though if he's ever up for sale, I'm getting a bid in early) Un-betaed schmoop and they haven't even kissed yet - SIGH - apologies. Expect four (yep FOUR) chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Monday Nights at the Bluebird

Chapter One

May 1993

5PM. Deacon frowned as he peered through the window of the Bluebird Café and spotted his least favorite waitress unstacking the chairs for the tables. Looked like Rayna was working for Leah-belle, dammit. Too late to call out.

Open mike nights were usually his favorite shift. Amy trusted him enough to let him run the night like it was his own, and he could usually count on them being laid back and fun, like his own personal jam session. Leah-belle usually handled the tables and enjoyed the ride. She told him her tips had doubled since he took over the night. He liked Leah-belle. He was comfortable with her. In fact he was so comfortable with her that he'd confided to her that he wasn't comfortable at all with Rayna. So he couldn't figure out why she'd sent Ms. Perfect to cover her shift.

He tucked up the collar of his denim jacket and tried to stroll in casually, but Rayna spotted him immediately.

"I thought you were supposed to be here at 4:30?" She raised one inquiring eyebrow at him. "I had to call up Mikey to open up for me." She frowned.

Deacon sighed. It seemed like Rayna had frowned at him everyday since she'd been hired. Normally women never frowned at him. Deacon had a way with women, even when he was so shy he could barely look at 'em. All he had to do was flash them his father's smile and they'd do all the talking that was needed. Jack Clayborne hadn't been able to give his middle boy much but handsome face and an ease with guitars but Deacon took those gifts and made the most of them. The face had helped a lot, got him a lot further than most 24 year-old guitar players in Nashville. Got him access to what he wanted to do, and if he'd had to court a lot of women to get through, well, it was no hardship. Women liked Deacon. Most women that is - except this one.

"I'm mean seriously, do you always roll up in here late?" Rayna made a face at him. She couldn't understand why he was allowed to screw around while the rest of them put in a hard day's work. At first she'd thought he was related to Amy, then she thought maybe he was a "special friend" but nope. He was just a bartender that everyone loved, and apparently a very good guitar player. She wouldn't know, she'd never seen him play and had only had a few shifts with him where he actually turned up. If anyone else on staff at the Bluebird had slacked like that, Amy would've probably fired them on the spot but no - she had a soft spot for Deacon.

The staff was all in on it, too. Every time she'd mentioned his absences or his lates, they all flipped over themselves make excuses for him. _Deacon likes a drink, but he's a nice guy and is working so hard to support himself and sending money home too and what a great guitarist, so worth all the extra effort._ Well, Rayna didn't care, irresponsible was irresponsible in her books.

"Why, Ray? You miss me?" Deacon tried his best smile, but all it did was earn him another scowl.

"I think you have enough women worrying about you, Deacon Clayborne." She gave him a dry look as she grabbed a bus rag from the bar.

He sighed. When she wasn't being so stern, Ms. Rayna James was actually a very pretty young girl. Beautiful strawberry blonde hair, creamy white skin dusted ever so lightly with pale golden freckles, sparkling blue eyes framed by a curtain of thick long lashes and pert cupid's bow of a mouth. But she always screwed that hair up into a tight ponytail braid at the back of her head, and her habitual expression was a frown that could freeze a man at thirty paces. Amy said that Rayna had become one of her most popular waitresses and he'd barely believed it –until he'd seen her smiling at the customers. She had a smile like sunshine – a smile that could light up a room with its warmth. She just iced up when he came around. Oh well – he sighed to himself – you win some you lose some.

"Mondays are a little different, Ray – Leah-belle usually opens and I get here when I can." Deacon had his construction job on Mondays, so they'd come up with the compromise. "Amy knows."

"Okay, none of my business – " Rayna shrugged and started wiping down the tables. As he admired the trim little ass in the designer jeans, Deacon once again wondered what she was doing here. He knew those jeans cost half of his rent – his sister had slavered over a pair in the mall last time she'd visited and they'd both felt punched in the gut by the price. Same with her shoes. While most of the other waitresses wore comfortable sneakers, or simple black flats, Ms. Rayna James was wearing an expensive pair of Frye cowboy boots, and they looked custom made. She had three she liked to wear – the black pair she was wearing tonight, the buckskin pair and a perfectly ridiculous and sexy red pair that came out on Saturday nights. Ms. Rayna (and he chuckled inwardly as he realized he never thought about her without the honorific) did not need to work at the Bluebird.

"Well, since you're here now" Rayna gave him a look that bordered on a smirk, "you might wanna start stocking the bar, instead of staring at my ass."

"Yes ma'am" he saluted. That was almost flirtatious. Okay, maybe she could loosen up a bit. "But it's a nice ass." She paused as she strode past him to grab the menus.

"I know," She grinned.

**_Later_**

He was really good at this, Rayna thought to herself as Deacon strode back up to the Mike to announce the next performer. He put on this whole "aw shucks, I'm just a po' country boy" act but it made the audience melt like butter. He stood in the spotlight, not seeking it, but clearly comfortable – unlike herself.

"You're a big chicken Rayna Wyatt," she chided, in her tough girl voice, but it didn't matter. She still felt a paralyzing fear at the thought of being up in the spotlight, on her own, sharing her songs. She'd never done it before, except with Momma before she left, and at school recitals. She'd never performed professionally, even on an amateur night like this and even after six months, the thought still made her want to lose her dinner. Which made it even more ridiculous that she was still there, waiting tables.

She'd been so fired up when she left home. Daddy had given her the final ultimatum, _college or get out of my house_ – and she'd fled immediately. She'd worked out a plan. She moved in with her friend Kristy until she could afford her own place and she would haunt the Bluebird until they gave her a job.

Everybody knew about the Bluebird. The café was _the _place to go to break into Nashville. Initially designed as a regular restaurant, it had soon morphed into a temple of music where people went to listen and to discover the newest Johnny Cash or Emmylou. Kathy Matea had been discovered there, as had Garth Brooks and she knew…she absolutely _knew_ that if she could get up there, and perform eventually someone would discover Rayna Wyatt, um...James.

She just had to believe in herself and not..get…distracted. She sighed as Deacon grinned at the two singers onstage and gave the woman a flirtatious wink.

She would just keep her distance. Like she already had been. It was just harder when he actually showed up for work and was all smiles and charm, and gorgeous body and sporting his own great ass. The girls had warned her from day one. Watch out for Deacon, they'd said – he'll steal your heart, break it and not even realize.

"He's just too sweet" Leah-belle had said as she was giving her the rundown for Monday night, "he's a real old school country gentleman, will pull out your chairs for you, open doors, give you his jacket – all those corny old things that we all pretend we don't love, but secretly we do" Leah-belle, who was happily married, gave her a knowing wink. "Be tough, honey."

Amy had been much more forthright. "He's a good-looking cuss and he knows it. He's been charming 'em since he was in diapers. Looks and charm, and that lost little boy thing – I even let him get away with more than he oughta. Then again, he's just so damn talented, he belongs here – and he knows it." Amy had just shrugged. "You have a boyfriend, don't you?"

Rayna had, until last week. Now she wasn't exactly sure what Bennet was. At first he'd been very supportive of her working at the Bluebird. "_Great, Angel, you've gotta follow your dream"_ but that was before last week's big fight with Daddy.

They'd had their own huge fight after that.

"You can't afford to alienate your father, Rayna" Bennett sounded almost desperate. "Find a way to compromise." It was then that she'd started to suspect he was more interested in a relationship with her father than with her.

She sighed. Well, no she didn't want to alienate Daddy, but she would if she had to. This was where she belonged. She looked up at the stage and Deacon was smiling at the next act. It was a beautiful smile, warm and welcoming – a smile of kinship, of belonging. Musican speaking to musician. Suddenly Rayna wanted to be up there – wanted to be up there so badly she could taste it. She just had to work up the nerve to get a guitar player and get her songs out.

There was a commotion at the door and Rayna swung around to admonish them, only to be horrified at the sight of Tandy and her boyfriend, Coleman and Anita, and Daddy and Dalton coming through the door. She froze as they walked over to one of her large tables and sat down.

"Alright. Everybody settled in?" Deacon only allowed a slight frown to cross his face. Normally noisy customers were warned the moment they walked in – but Deacon was no idiot. He'd recognized Lamar Wyatt immediately. He wasn't gonna start a fight with the man who ran Nashville. "Rayna will be over to get your orders, folks and then we can start the show again."

Rayna bit her lip. Everyone being here was definitely not a good sign. She looked over at their faces and Tandy looked away, guilty. 'Traitor' Rayna thought to herself. Well, she wasn't Lamar Wyatt's daughter for nothing. She steeled herself and headed over to the table. Coleman and Anita were first up, both with sympathetic smiles. They made it easy. "Two bourbons" Coleman ordered smoothly, ignoring Anita's concerned stare.

"We'll have the same" Tandy's boyfriend countered. Tandy didn't look up as Rayna passed by.

"Chicken" Rayna muttered as passed her sister and headed over to Daddy.

He gave her a ferocious smile.

"Don't backtalk your sister, Rayna, I raised you better than that." Daddy boomed in his lord and master of the universe voice. Well, great, she thought sarcastically – now everyone knew who she was. Might as well accept it.

"Daddy, you need to keep your voice down when the music is on – " Rayna tried to hush him.

"Well, music isn't on right now, is it? Not at this precise minute."

"Daddy, there are rules – "

"Waitresses don't set rules for customers, Rayna Louise." Lamar smirked. "That's what you are here, right? A waitress? You left our beautiful home in Belle Meade to come out and live your dream…and here you are, living it! A waitress. Well, darlin' first rule of service – the customer is always right."

"Not here Daddy, here we do make the rules and I can throw you out if you don't follow 'em!" Rayna flushed as she realized all the patrons and the act onstage were looking at her and Lamar. He just smiled and addressed the room.

"Well, what do you folks think? My baby girl ran away from home to be a musician, or so she says – and here I find her – waiting tables, not singing, not playing. A concerned father ought to just pack her up and take her back home, right?" Lamar gave the room his best campaign manner. The audience muttered a little and Rayna glared as she started to hear a few affirmatives.

"I'm over eighteen, I'm far from being a baby and you can't drag me anywhere." Rayna fumed.

"Oh yeah? Bet no one stops me" her father gave her a genial grin that bordered on the maniacal. He knew he could do pretty much what he wanted here and most folks would let him alone. That was how things worked in Lamar Wyatt's world. She almost didn't notice when Deacon tapped her on the shoulder.

"Everything alright here?" His hazel eyes were dark with concern. This was so embarrassing, Rayna thought. Not only was Daddy here and making a scene, but he was doing it in front of Deacon, who didn't really think much of her, anyway.

"I'm sorry" she apologized, giving him a distressed look. He just gave her a gentle smile and shrugged. "It's alright Ray."

"Who's this, your supervisor?" Lamar cut in. He took a look at the young man with the broken shoes and the chain store clothes and dismissed him as insignificant. "Are you here to throw me out, Son?"

Lamar's voice was condescending and friendly at the same time. A neat trick, Deacon thought. That look probably cowed men in boardrooms across the nation, certainly men much more powerful than Deacon himself. Luckily he had nothing to lose, so he was uncowed, but he did respect the fact that it was Rayna's father he was speaking to.

"No sir, Mr. Wyatt, we're just waiting for you to settle in." He placated as he smiled around the table. Most of the folks took no notice except for the man called Coleman, who gave Deacon a conspiratorial wink. Lamar put on his pleasant voice.

"Look son, everybody in this cafe has already got their drinks and their food – looks like all that needs to be done is a little collecting. You can handle that, can't you? If we take Rayna home with us?" He ignored Rayna's sputtering protest and gave Deacon a smile that was so broad and blinding, he almost didn't notice the five one hundred dollar bills in his hand. "You can start with us. No change."

"That's kind, Sir, truly – but since this is Rayna's table – that's her money." Deacon's smile was tight and as false as Lamar's. That much cash could've easily paid his rent for the month and given him a nice sum to send back home, and he was sure the man in the hand-tailored suit knew it. If he was smart, he oughta take it. But he wasn't smart – he'd spotted that desperate look Rayna eyes, and he recognized it. She needed to be there – to be in the café and to play her music. This family of priviledge and power had been choking the life out of her. He recognized the feeling.

"No son, I'm sure she won't mind – since she's quitting. You go ahead." The smiling Demon that was Rayna's father tried again. He'd taken one look at his raggedy clothes and had figured, "well, hell – this will be easy." He didn't count on Deacon's s other gifts from his father - his temper and his pride.

"I'm NOT QUITTING!" Rayna declared furiously. Leave it to Lamar to come in here and do this, to ruin the evening and to try and ruin the café for her. He had no shame about coming in and waving his money around like a flag, like everyone in the room didn't already know who he was. She cast a embarrassed look over her shoulder, trying to will Deacon to see how sorry she was and she could tell by the hardness in his face that he was as angry and offended as she suspected he would be. For all his sins, there was a core of integrity in him that she had recognized and that Amy had probably recognized too. She gasped in surprise as he grabbed her hand.

"I'll tell you what, Sir" He remembered his honorific, because his momma had raised him right, and when you're speaking to an elder, whether they're poor and homeless or rich and powerful and incredibly rude – you give them their due. "Why don't you save that money until after her song, and then you decide if you wanna give her a tip. He grinned back at Lamar and clutched Rayna's hand tighter as it flinched in his.

He could see she was terrified. Well, she had to do it someday. Her father was right about that, at least. He pulled her over to the stage and grabbed the mike.

"We got a bit of an emergency situation here – we're gonna break the rules just this once. Anybody got a problem?" There were some more mutterings, and but all were positive and supportive. Deacon gave them all a grateful smile. "Can we borrow a guitar?"

One of the acts that had gone already passed their Gibson forward. Deacon could feel Rayna cowering behind him. That wouldn't do at all. He turned around and gently placed the guitar around her neck.

"Come on Ray," he whispered. "You can do it. Show him."

Rayna felt the weight of the guitar and was plunged into full-blown panic. Her mind went blank. She couldn't, there was no way – not with the guitar and never performed before a paying audience before – much less one of her own songs and…Deacon…she looked at him calmly adjusting the guitar…Deacon…he was a real musician and she was…

"Deacon I don't know if can do it" She whispered, her heart pounding, her entire body shaking.

"Sure you can, darlin'" He whispered with a grin. "You're Lamar Wyatt's daughter – You're tough as old boots. " He sighed as she reached out, again, a death grip on his hand. The small delicate hand felt icy cold in his. He warmed it for a minute, and then gently pulled free.

"You know Ray, your timing sucks. I'd love to hold hands with you later, baby"

"Deacon, I – I can't play and sing, " she pleaded quietly. "I'm really not good on the guitar." She was asking him to play for her. He could do it – easily. He'd backed up folks before with little to no prep time. He still didn't like her whole lot but he knew where she was coming from. Rayna was making a stand here for her creative life, and he understood that. He'd had to do something similar with his own family.

"Do you read music?" He asked gently. She nodded.

"Can you give me the chords?" He lifted the guitar off and put it on himself as she told him "E, A, G-Sharp, four-four timing".

"Okay. So I'm gonna play a couple of phrases, and then you join in when you're ready" He watched as she pulled herself together and nodded stiffly. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her whole body was tight. She looked as though she was going to an execution.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear "you get lost, you just look at me." She flinched, and nodded, her whole body loosening. He reached over and adjusted the mike for her. He gave her another little nudge. "and remember – this is fun. You like music – 'kay?" She gave him a small half-smile.

Slowly, and quietly – almost too quietly, she started, the mike barely catching it. Deacon had to strain to hear and then, when she realized he was following, he was backing her up, not leaving her out there on her own, her voice started to get stronger. And as it got stronger, it got sweeter, more plaintive, and suddenly he heard the song, heard her heart as she sang it out and he had to stop himself from responding directly.

**_Well he jumps in the taxi, headed for the sky  
He's off to slay some demon dragonflies  
And he looks at me, that long last time, then he  
Turns away again and I waved goodbye  
In an envelope inside his coat  
Is a chain I wore, around my throat  
Along with a note I wrote  
Said "I love you but, I don't_…_even know why"_

_Darlin' I wish you well..._  
_On your way to the wishing well_  
_Swinging off of those gates of hell_  
_But I can tell how hard you're trying_  
_I Just have this secret hope_  
_Sometimes all we do is cope_  
_Somewhere on the steepest slope_  
_There'll be an endless rope and nobody's crying…_

The song was sad, sweet and beautiful. It was a love song – he was expecting a love song from her – but this wasn't the love song of a 19-year old girl. This was a song about wistful love, a song about regret and pain, and it swept him along so much that he almost wanted to reach out and reassure her, and tell her that love was good and strong and it shouldn't make her feel lost.

_Well a long night turns into a couple long years  
And we walking around and around this trail of tears  
Where the very loud voices of my own fears  
Are ringin' and ringin' in my ear  
It says that love is long gone  
Every move I make is all wrong  
Says you never gave a damn for me  
For anything, for anyone_

_Darlin' I wish you well..._  
_On your way to the wishing well_  
_Swinging off of those gates of hell_  
_But I can tell how hard you're trying_  
_I Just have this secret hope_  
_Sometimes all we do is cope_  
_Somewhere on the steepest slope_  
_There'll be an endless rope_

_And nobody crying. _

She could feel him there beside her, playing, following almost as if he been sitting in her bedroom with her and heard the song as she sang it quietly, her thoughts full of Momma and how her father had backed himself into a corner with no where to run. Momma had run instead, and she'd left a note with her wedding rings for Tandy and her wedding necklace for Rayna. She'd written a separate message for Lamar but he'd burned it instead of reading it. A couple of years later when they'd heard Momma was killed on the road, Lamar had smiled brightly, nodded and gone in his study to smash it to pieces.

And now Deacon was there, playing as though he knew that her soul was crying out through the song.

She looked up into his eyes, and she realized, he was feeling it too – he heard her cry and he was answering, there to back her. She wasn't alone in this and she could feel it in her voice too, getting stronger, getting truer and suddenly, she knew – she _was_ where she was supposed to be.

_May you dream you are dreaming, in a warm soft bed  
And may the voices inside you that fill you with dread  
Make the sound of thousands of angels instead  
Tonight where you might be laying your head _

Rayna's voice was rising gaining strength, and throbbing with love and with sadness and an aching joy, a joy that Deacon felt every day he got to play the music he wanted. It's a joy that most people didn't understand, a joy that he'd never thought someone like her would understand. But he could tell she felt it just as much as he did – that incredible ache of having something deep inside you, needing to share it with people and not knowing how, only to find your way through the unbearable beauty of music. Something inside him cracked, stretched out and reached forward. He wanted to tell her – I know – I understand. I'm with you.

_I wish you well... on your way to the wishing well...  
Swinging off of those gates of hell  
But I can tell how hard you're trying  
I still have this secret hope..._

__With a pang, he realized, she was winding down, the moment was slipping away – it was almost over, this moment of pure connection and he felt bereft.

_Sometimes all we do is cope  
Somewhere on the steepest slope  
there'll be an endless rope  
And nobody's crying, And nobody's crying.  
Nobody's crying _

And then it was over. Done. The crowd was on their feet whooping and stomping - and neither Rayna nor Deacon had noticed that sometime in the middle of the song, Rayna's family had run out, bailed on the proof that their prodigal daughter was where she was supposed to be.

They both took their bows and went back to their jobs, and it was almost as though the song had never happened. Later, when Deacon was behind the bar doing the till, Rayna started to wipe down the tables, and found the five hundred dollar bills jammed under her father's placemat.

"Hey Deacon?" she called out and waved the money. "I guess we earned our tip."

He laughed.

"Naw, Ray, that's your money, you take it. I think you're gonna need it if you're not going home. "

"Uh-uh" Rayna walked back over to the bar and dropped the money on top of it. "I wasn't up there by myself."

They bickered back and forth until Deacon decided on a five-way split between himself, Rayna, the busboy, Mikey the soundman and the dishwasher. They all celebrated with a shot of Old Grandad and then packed up. No one said a word about Rayna's debut or what they'd seen onstage when Deacon and Rayna got together.

It was almost as though it didn't happen, Rayna thought to herself as she headed for the door.

"Hey Ray?" Deacon called out, stopping her on her way.

"Yeah?"

"See you next Monday, right?" He gave her his charming smile.

"Uh-uh, Leah-belle's back from her vacation." She shrugged philosophically.

"Yeah, she's back and will be working. But – I'm gonna be seeing you next Monday, anyway – right?" He gave her a meaningful stare. Suddenly she realized what he meant and her stomach went tight.

"Um, I'm not sure – I uh – " She stuttered nervously.

"You'll be here, and if you have the gumption, you'll throw your name in the hat. If you don't, you can start gearing yourself up for it. You're singing on that stage again, Rayna Wyatt." His look was stern. She bit her lip, a little excited, a lot more terrified.

"Okay." Her smile was tentative and beautiful. Damn, it took a lot for him to earn that smile from her, he thought. "and it's James…I prefer to use my mother's name."

"Alright. Rayna James…sounds good to me. Well, get home Rayna James, and start preparing yourself, because your career is about to start."

END if Chapter 1

_Authors notes: __  
_

I truly apologize for unbeta-ing, I know I suffer from innovative spelling and creative grammar, I did try to clean it up, but I just need to get it out there before the plot bunnies explode in my brain. BTW, I'm seeing four, extremely long-winded chapters in total. We might be getting a little sexy times as we go along (if you're okay with that, tho if you're not, I will warn) and I can also guarantee we will be getting incredibly schmoopy(if you're okay with that, tho if you're not you're probably not gonna wanna read this story.

**so, I know Patty Griffin is ages after this was supposed to have taken place but a) I like her voice and her songs, and b) I thought she would suit Connie's voice, so the part of young Rayna's music will be played by Patty Griffin.

I'm probably writing this just for myself. Oh well ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

Monday Nights at the Bluebird

Chapter Two

_**Two Months Later**_

There was a shameful secret that Deacon had never admitted to anyone. Sometime, about around when he was 12 years old - his Dad had been gone almost two years by then - he had decided to quit music. Until that fateful day, he'd been proud of his likeness to his father, the amazing guitar player that everyone knew and everyone respected. He'd treasured the moments of kinship he'd felt when his father would pull him aside and show him a new cord progression. When Jack had passed down his old Gibson to Deacon, he'd been thrilled and honored, taking it as a sign that he was heir to his father's talent. None of the others had been so close to their Dad. Everyone had called him a chip of the old block, and Jack's apple, and he'd practically burst his buttons.

That was before the day of the church picnic. He'd been helping his Momma by carrying over the huge cooler of sweet tea that his Momma had made for the event and he'd over heard Mrs. Caldwell and Mrs. Blake talking about his Dad leaving.

_Poor Bonnie, _Mrs. Caldwell had exclaimed. _Six kids and no husband, what is she gonna do? _She'd sighed and shaken her head. Mrs. Blake had been less sympathetic.

_Well, what did she expect? _Mrs. Blake challenged. _Marrying a musician? We all knew Jack Clayborne was no good and now he goes and proves it. That's what comes from listening to a pretty song, and looking a pretty face and losing your mind. _

He'd been so ashamed he'd dropped the cooler where it was, and had run off to the river. Six hours later Momma had found him there, staring at the water, trying not to cry and wishing, just wishing, he could bring himself to smash that old guitar. Momma had just sat with him, her arm around his shoulders. Her words made him realize that Mrs. Caldwell and Mrs. Blake had filled her in. _Your Dad tried, Sweetheart, but he just couldn't handle a life without music anymore. _

Well, hell and damnation, he'd cursed Deacon with the same need, much as Deacon had tried to squash that need with alcohol and women. The music would not be denied no matter how hard he tried and he knew for a certainty, even at the ripe old age of 24, that he was destined for the same life as Jack. Always on the road, always looking to play, even over the love of a wife or his family. He would never dodge his Dad's legacy. So he took what he benefits he could from it. He took his lovers, he took his money and each time when he played - sharing his bits of soul with strangers and finding that one pure moment where they were all with him, he took his solace.

Meeting Rayna was like a thunderbolt. He'd never imagined that there was someone out there for him, someone who could meet him onstage and send it all back with interest. He realized now, how stupid he'd been, thinking he could resist her. She was beautiful, she could write and sing like an angel, and her smile lit up his soul - a little bit, every time they played. He'd managed to keep it under his hat, though. She might call herself Jaymes, but she was Rayna Wyatt and she wasn't for the prodigal son of the hard-working and respectable - but dirt poor Claybornes. She might stare into his eyes and sing the most bittersweet and aching love songs he'd ever heard, but she would leave with that Bennett guy every time. Bennett with the perfect car, and the perfect clothes and no duct tape on his shoes.

Deacon was quite proud that she hadn't sussed him out yet. He'd managed to hide his feelings by smiling when he shook Bennett's hand, and by bringing a date when they'd all go out for a drink. If she rolled her eyes at him because each date was a different girl, well then it was working. They were about to do a few gigs out of town and she didn't suspect a thing.

But Amy did. Which was why he was currently sitting her office at the Bluebird, with a shot of prepartory bourbon in his hand.

"Uh-oh," He grinned. "I'm about to get a talk, ain't I?" He downed the bourbon without blinking. Another skill he got from Jack.

"What are your intentions toward that girl, Deacon?" Amy didn't smile as she topped up both their glasses.

"What girl?" Ray was all woman and no one knew it better than he did. He wasn't, however, gonna tell Amy that. She wasn't having it.

"The one who just happens to have a father that could close this place down faster than I can top up our glasses?" She glared. He bit his lip.

"She's just my writing partner, that's all. Our music meshes well together." He spoke as forthrightly as he could. Amy sighed.

"I'm sure that's not all that's meshing."

"Seriously. I haven't touched her." Deacon met her gaze honestly. He hadn't. He'd wanted to, so badly sometimes his hands ached from it, but he hadn't. He knew on the day that he did - that would be it for their partnership and that was just not an option. Amy sighed and shook her head.

"Well, honey, if that's true, I've got some news for you. It won't last long." He tried to protest but she cut him off. "I've seen the two of you onstage. I know you want her. Hell, everybody who sees you onstage together sees it." He didn't protest. He couldn't. He wasn't a natural liar. He noticed his shot glass was empty, and he refilled it.

"It would be alright if it was unrequited – a little sad, but alright – but you gotta know that she wants you, too." He looked up at that, his heart pounding. Amy saw the look in his eyes and sighed sadly. "There's gonna come a day when she's gonna reach out to you and you're not gonna push her away. I'm asking you to remember this conversation, and try."

There was silence as Deacon took in what Amy was saying. She wanted him to stay away from Rayna. She was protecting Rayna – from him. He'd always thought she liked him. His heart dropped as she continued talking.

"You have a gift from the Angels with your guitar, and it seems like Rayna has the same angels helping her sing and it's a beautiful thing, you two, up there together. But you have a darkness in you, son – and I know it's not your fault – but you still carry it. Girls like Rayna – they're not like us. They don't know how to deal with darkness. "

She'd talked a little more about responsibility and choices, and he'd sat there the whole time, numb. Of course he'd known this all along, he was no good, just like his Dad - he just hadn't expected Amy to put it all out there. He nodded, a little blindly, not really registering anything else. Amy was saying a few more things, concerned things, about how she loved Deacon like a son and she didn't want to see him hurt any more than Rayna, but he didn't really hear it.

All he knew was that he was overdue for a real drink and some more congenial company and he wasn't gonna get it here.

Rayna was worried. It was Saturday, and she still hadn't heard from Deacon. They had their regular gig tomorrow and they hadn't gotten any new work done. He'd missed two writing sessions and no one at the Bluebird had seen him for a couple of days. It shocked her that none of them seemed too concerned. Amy had just shrugged and said, "Don't' worry, sweetheart, he'll turn up. He always does." Leah-belle just smiled and said it was typical.

Mikey was the only one who gave her a clue. "Yeah, I was thinking he was overdue for a bender."

_A bender! _She thought to herself furiously. Here she was sitting a home, working hard on their music every day and Deacon was off, getting drunk and carrying on with god knows whom.

She cursed herself for being an idiot. For some reason, she'd thought the music meant as much to him as it did to her. Every time they played together, she'd felt as though she'd start to know more and more of Deacon's heart, the real one, the one he shielded with flirtatious smiles and smartass quips. She had thought it had gone both ways, that he was seeing her too, really seeing her – not as Rayna Wyatt, country club princess and daughter of Lamar, but as Rayna Jaymes – the girl who had quietly cried herself to sleep for two years after her mother had gone. The lonely girl who hated the privileged world she'd grown up in, hated the false smiles and loaded kindnesses – the girl who'd been desperate for real connection and had found it through her mother's beloved "hillbilly music."

Rayna didn't want the life that her father had mapped out for her. She didn't want the right marriage to the right man with the right prospects and a hobby career that didn't get in the way of her charity work. She didn't want to get married at all. Not after what she'd seen her mother go through. Years and years of bending her life to his, subject to his whims and his tempers, only to grow more and more distant as the years went on. She had watched quietly as her parents turned into polite strangers, and her mother had quietly withered, like an overripe tomato on the vine until finally it had gotten unbearable.

And Lamar had deeply loved her mother.

Tandy said that there was love out there that wasn't destructive. She claimed to love this new boyfriend, and she'd told Rayna, just to wait and see – that there was love out there that could life you up and strengthen you, that it didn't have to smother you.

_That's what you thought you'd found with Deacon, _a little voice muttered inside her head.

So there's how stupid she was. She'd gone and done it, the one thing she'd been warned against and the one thing she'd told herself she never could do. She'd fallen in love with that stupid, irritating jackass, with his charming smiles and his soulful eyes and his incredibly delicate and beautiful music.

She had too much of a sense of self-preservation to ever admit it to him, though. There had been a couple of times, during their writing sessions when it had been a close thing. She knew Deacon thought she was pretty, which wasn't much because he seemed to find most women attractive, but one time they had been leaning over the sheet music together, and her hair had been loose and had brushed against his shoulder. He had stroked it gently, almost absentmindedly and she had frozen, breathless from the contact. He'd noticed immediately and let go.

"Sorry" he'd said lightly, a wry and slightly bitter grin on his face. "but you can't wave that in front of a fella and not expect him to wanna touch it." They'd joked about selling her hair if they didn't make it, and the tension was dispelled. The other time, was more overt – she'd done laundry in a hurry that morning and Deacon had found one of her bras on the floor. It was a dusky rose color, with pretty lace inserts, and Rayna had turned the same shade of the bra as he handed it to her.

"You might wanna...get that out of the line of fire - " he'd said, his voice deep and rough, the lacy item framed in his large guitar-calloused hand.

"Thanks" she'd said, suddenly shy as she looked up into a pair of darkened hazel eyes that looked almost black. He cleared his throat, and then grinned.

"My pleasure – "he joked, and again the tension was dispelled. That's why she kept poor Bennett, nearby – in case she was ever tempted. Of course, it wasn't fair to string him along like that, but since she suspected Bennett was only with her to get into Daddy's company, she figured fair was fair. She needed a buffer and he needed contacts.

Though right now, all she needed was Deacon. No one seemed to wanna do anything about his disappearance, and it was frustrating as hell. She cornered Mikey and demanded some clues - he finally gave her a list of all the places he'd gone before with Deacon. She wrote them all down and headed out. She found him at the third place – Bobby's Idle Hour.

She should've expected it. Deacon was parked at a table at the back - a buxom blonde sitting in his lap. It felt a little like a slap, but she should be used to it by now.

He saw her as she came in – his eyes meeting hers and he grinned, a tight mean grin that got her back up. She strode boldly over to the table, Lamar in every step.

"Well, well " he smirked. "Slumming?" The blonde looked over her shoulder and made a face at Rayna's fancy shoes and clothes.

"Looks like – " She giggled into Deacon's shoulder. Rayna decided to be charitable and ignore the bimbo and focus on her truant writing partner.

"Deacon Clayborne" she bit out, flinching as she realized she sounded exactly like her father, "has it escaped your memory that we have a gig tomorrow?" She didn't appreciate that he made a face at that and she didn't appreciate that he shared the face with the bimbo, who had the nerve to roll her eyes at Rayna.

"He's busy" she declared boldly, sliding her arms possessively around his neck. Rayna calmly started listing all the reasons why grabbing her by that bleached blonde mane and pulling her backwards off his lap was a bad idea. Instead she looked at the idiot, who was grinning sheepishly at her.

"Is that true Deacon, are you busy?" Rayna was furiously angry, that was all. That was it. That was what was causing the tears in her eyes and the tightness in her voice. "Because we have a commitment but if that doesn't mean anything to you. Fine! I'll go on with another guitar player and you and I can wish each other well!"

She didn't storm off because she was upset – it was just because that girl was looking at her so pityingly and she knew that her tears were making black tracks down her face from her mascara. She didn't hear him the first time he called. Or the second – her heart was beating so heavily in her ears that all she wanted to do was run home. _She had just broken up with her writing partner - _that was all - that was what was tearing her to pieces.

"Ray!" He caught up with her in the parking lot. She realized she'd been storming off blindly, not really looking because when he appeared in front of her, his hands suddenly warm and firm on her shoulders, she'd wanted to collapse into him in relief. "Geez Ray, stop when a body calls after you, will you?" His eyes were wide and concerned, little flecks of gold and green sparkling in the street lights. He reached up gently, dabbing at her tears. "Don't cry, Baby. Please don't."

"I'm not crying," she muttered sullenly. "I'm just mad."

"I know, honey – I'm sorry – " For the first time since she met him, Deacon sounded tentative, almost ashamed.

"Look Deacon, I don't care what you do in your personal life." She lied boldly, " – but I do care if it affects our music." She cast a disdainful glance at the bar behind her. "If you place more importance on hanging out in _dive bars, _with _blonde bimbos –_ " She was trying to sound dismissive, instead of jealous and angry, "-well, maybe we should rethink our partnership."

She'd angered him, she could tell. He let go of her like she'd slapped him and stepped back. His eyes were no longer soft and his jaw was tight.

"Well, Ms. Wyatt, I am sorry you don't like my new girlfriend-" His lip curled and there was a quiet rage in his voice.

"Girlfriend!" she couldn't help the skeptical exclamation – it just slipped out.

He was even angrier with that. "Yes, my _girlfriend _– I'm sorry she's not quite as fancy as you, but I figured since I'm jus' po' country folk I might as well get together with some of ma' own." His own eyes were contemptuous now as he took in her designer shoes and fancy clothes, "don't wanna get looking above my station, now do I?"

"Deacon – that's not what I - " she was horrified as she realized how he was taking her reaction. She wasn't judging the place because it wasn't fancy, she was judging the fact that he wanted to bury him self in there but he wasn't letting her speak.

" – And I apologize that this establishment is not to your liking, but not all of us can afford to socialize at the Belle Meade Country Club." He was all pride now - she could see that. That and the drinks he'd had weren't gonna make him listen.

"Deacon, I wasn't judging this place I just wanted – " He cut her off again.

"- But most of all, I'm sorry you misinterpreted this week as a judgment on our music" he was looking at his shoes now, still angry but also ashamed. "I do love our music Ray, and I do take it seriously. I just needed to - " He bit off the sentence and shook his head. "I will be there tomorrow."

Much as she wanted to rant at him some more, she heard the sincerity in his voice. He would be there.

"'Kay –" She nodded. The silence was awkward between them.

"Can I drop you somewhere?" She asked hopefully. His smile was regretful.

"No – " and she felt a little twist in her stomach as she realized he was going back into the bar. "-But I will be there, Ray – you can take that to the bank" She nodded awkwardly and made a mental note to herself to make sure Bennett was there tomorrow. She started toward her car, and she realized, lyrics were starting to come to her head. She stopped called back to him.

"Hey Deacon?"

"Yep?" He stopped too, turning around to face her.

"Is it possible you could come early? I think I might have a new song or at least the beginnings."

"Yeah? Sure Ray." He nodded and turned back towards the bar. The hollow pit in her stomach started to grow as she realized he wasn't gonna look back.

"Seriously? What are you trying to do with this one, Ray?" He read the lyrics, a little puzzled and quite honestly, still a little pissed off. Yeah, he'd screwed up royally with the bender, but he wasn't too keen on her thinking she could track him down just whenever she felt like it – like they were a couple or something. And thanks to Ms. Fancy Wyatt, he'd had to invite that girl - Mindy, Monica…something with an M – to the gig tonight, just so he could prove that he did have a girlfriend. Even if she was only the girlfriend for the evening. She must've heard his skepticism, because she gave him a cross look.

"I'm trying to do a love-hate song, okay?" Rayne was getting frustrated. It had seemed so clear the night before. She'd heard the verse in her head over and over again as she'd driven home. It had made sense last night. Why not do a song about the person you loved, even though that person drove you absolutely crazy? Hell, it was practically a country tradition that George Jones had perfected. She couldn't believe he couldn't get on board with this.

"Sounds like you've got yourself in a fix." Deacon said unsympathetically. He cast a critical eye over the verse. "I can see why you can't think of anything else. You've pretty much written yourself into a corner here. "

"Oh yeah?" He was being a little smug this morning, all cocky. Rayna suddenly hated him and hated that girl – his _girlfriend._

"Yeah, Ray – you've basically told the guy he's unlovable, the he has absolutely no one in the world who cares for him " Deacon paused as his throat suddenly tightened up. "Where are you gonna go from that?"

"Did you even bother to read the chorus?" She sighed impatiently. "It's here, at the bottom – " He rolled his eyes, and picked it up.

_**I know why you're lonely; it's time you knew it too**_

He was trying, really trying not to feel like this was about him, but it just seemed too –

_**No one will ever love you; no one will ever love you, **_

_**No one will ever love you…like I do**_

He set down the paper quickly, before she could see his hand shake. He cleared his throat and looked up. Nope, her gaze was clear, devoid of any hint that more was going on than another writing session. Okay.

"You know Ray, maybe this isn't a one person song. Maybe it's a duet? What do you think of this?" He strummed the guitar a couple of times and then sang.

_**Why you always looking for the limelight?  
Ain't you satisfied with me?  
For once why don't you get down off your high heels,  
you're no big deal.  
Can't you see? **_

She made a wry face at him, then grinned and harmonized on the chorus. He wasn't quite sure when it happened, but he realized that they'd started staring deep into each other's eyes as they sang, both unflinching as they challenged each other. She sang out –

_**I'm all you got.**_

He countered with -

_**I'm all you'll ever need.**_

They both came together on –

_**I'm all you'll ever have**_.

It was intense and it took him by surprised as he realized how much he wanted to grab her and kiss her, right there in the Bluebird, Amy and Leah-belle be damned. He thought he could see that same want on her face, same need that coursed through his blood every time they stood side-by-side.

Rayna breathed a sigh of a relief as the song ended. It was too much. It had opened the floodgates to something and she wasn't sure she wanted them opened. She could feel herself slipping. She hadn't expected that little song to open up her heart to him, and she sure as hell hadn't expected him to open his back. It was probably best that they forget that song.

Except, later that evening, when they were winding up their set, Deacon went ahead and announced the song. Except, Watty White heard the song and decided that he was gonna record their demo. Soon Rayna was haunted by that song, and haunted by the ever-building feelings between her and Deacon.

Phew, long-winded and schmoopy like I said. I apologize to anyone who is still reading.

No One Will Ever Love You, is a funny little song, and I kind of half-loved it immediately because it felt like it was two lovers calling each other on their crap but still loving each other – so I tried to contextualize it.

Thanks to KarenES for letting me know that James was not James but actually Jaymes, so I will keep that in mind, but still have yet to go backwards and figure out how to correct the original chapter.

Yep, I know my verb tenses are all over the place, and I apologize. I did try to clean it up.


End file.
